The Distant Ghost

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 15:13:53 -

The Distant Ghost

The quill trembled in my right hand, the nib scratching against the vellum with a sound like a bone breaking, while the scent of roasted swan and spiced wine hung heavy in the air of the Doge’s hall. I was forty years old, and my lungs, a ruin of coughs and black phlegm, burned with a fever that had consumed me for three years, yet I could not stop writing, for the codex before me demanded...

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